Within Striking Distance
by Fire Tears
Summary: Demyx learns to wear pants, Xigbar grudgingly helps with a prank, Axel has fun being a jerk, Roxas fails at chess, and eventually they all learn to tolerate each other as their world slowly crashes down around them. [preCoM to postKHII]
1. Finding His Footing

**Disclaimer:** _Kingdom Hearts_ is © Disney and Square Enix. No profit is being made from this work.

* * *

**Finding His Footing**  
_Demyx is new, and out of sorts._

* * *

If there's one thing Xigbar hates about Saïx (besides everything), it's the way he always squirms out of the annoying duties of the World that Never Was. He gets to run around, collecting hearts and figuring out the locations of new Nobodies, while the other (_original_) members end up getting stuck with the mundane crap. Like bathroom duty. And laundry.

And, apparently, helping out the new members with the whole 'gaining a weapon and discovering their element' thing. Xigbar's managed to avoid doing that for the last two members (and he's very, very happy about not getting stuck with Axel – Zexion's hair was singed for _weeks_) so it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Although, to be honest, when Xigbar bangs open the door to the most recent member's room, the last thing he expects is to be greeted by the sound of a very girly shrieking noise and a thump.

The new kid stares up at him with wide eyes from where he's sprawled on the floor. Sprawled very _nakedly _on the floor.

"Damnit, runt," Xigbar says sharply, "don't you know how to put pants on?"

The Organization's new number IX flushes, turning his eyes to the floor where the black pants are crumpled in a heap. It looks like someone threw the clothes at the kid and left. Which... yeah, probably. Saïx can be an asshole that way.

But still. He can put _pants_ on, can't he?

"My name's _Demyx_," the kid says quietly, drawing his legs up to his chest. He's rubbing his hands almost compulsively over his knees, as if he can't believe they're there. Huh. Maybe the Heartless ripped off his kneecaps before going for his heart, Xigbar thinks. Weird, but not impossible. "And I _know_ how to put pants on. I can see how you wear them."

Huh. Not a spineless one, then. Not that any Nobody with a human form would be, but Xigbar'd had his doubts when he first walked into the room.

"Then why aren't you wearing them?" he grunts.

"I can't..." Demyx hesitates, glancing up at Xigbar. He waves his hands slightly, as if searching for the word. "I can't... what you're doing." He points.

Xigbar looks down at himself, then back at the kid. "What, wear pants?"

Demyx bites his lip, turning his face away, and for a second Xigbar thinks the kid's going to cry. He stares; is Xemnas _certain_ he didn't grab a human by mistake? Then he sighs.

"Okay, okay. I'm not gonna yell at you. Tell me what you can't do."

Demyx points at Xigbar again, then says softly, "I don't know the word."

"C'mon, kid, we _all_ remember the simple shit."

"It _wasn't _simple!" The kid's voice is frustrated. "I'm not going to remember something I never did before!"

"You didn't _walk _or anything where your Other came from?" Xigbar asks incredulously, but the kid isn't listening to him anymore.

"Walking!" Demyx exclaims, his eyes lighting up. His hands wave about expressively, and he nearly falls onto his side from the loss of balance. "That's—" he stops, then slumps. "...not the word. But it's close to that. Walking without moving."

Xigbar knows his eyebrows having been attempting to climb up into his hairline for the past few minutes of this conversation, but now they seem to want to permanently take up residence there. "_Standing_?"

"Yes!" This time, Demyx _does_ fall over, giving a faint squeak as he does so. He easily pushes himself back up using his arms, and now that Xigbar really looks, he can see that for arms so slim, they actually have a decent amount of muscle.

"Okay, okay." Xigbar spreads his hands, as if in askance. "You can't _stand_? You don't remember how to _stand_?"

"I told you," Demyx says, sounding put out and actually a bit annoyed, "I can't remember something I've never done."

"Your Other was—" he eyes Demyx's face "—what, sixteen? And you haven't walked?" Xigbar snorts. "As if."

"I _haven't_!" Demyx insists. "I can't help it. It just... I couldn't do it." He looks frustrated, then says, "I don't remember why. I just... couldn't."

Okay, well, to be fair, Xigbar can't really blame the kid for something his Other didn't do. Hell, maybe Demyx's Other didn't have any legs or something like that. Makes sense that in his Nobody form, he would've chosen to get himself a pair of legs. From what Zexion's said, his Other always needed glasses, but Zexion doesn't need any now.

Then again, his own scars hadn't been healed, but Xigbar likes them. Maybe that had something to do with it. He can't really imagine someone being fond of a lack of legs. Well, maybe fish.

"If you wanna walk, you're gonna have to stand," Xigbar tells him. "Look, I'll help you." He holds out a hand.

Demyx takes it warily, his fingers closing tightly and belying his trepidation. Xigbar pulls, intent on yanking the kid to his feet—

—and ends up simply dragging him across the floor. Demyx yelps, letting go abruptly, his hands flying to his backside.

"Ow! That _hurt_!" He glares up at Xigbar, his cheeks stained red with embarrassment at the perceived practical joke.

"You're supposed to push off with your feet," Xigbar explains, his patience waning. He ought to be out collecting hearts or something, not trying to coddle some weird new kid who can't even figure out how to stand.

Demyx hesitates, still obviously wondering if it's some kind of joke, and asks, "Feet?"

Xigbar just looks at him. Slowly, Demyx reaches down and touches one slim hand to his left foot, and looks back up at Xigbar.

"You got it," Xigbar says, before Demyx can ask anything else. "Now, what you gotta do is flatten both of those against the floor and brace yourself when I pull you. Got it?"

"Got it," Demyx says, a tad suspiciously, but takes ahold of Xigbar's outstretched hand anyway. After a moment's thought, the Freeshooter holds out the other hand; he figures Demyx can use all the extra balance he can get.

The kid's fingers are surprisingly rough, Xigbar notes this time around. Callused, especially around the tips.

He pulls, Demyx braces, and... _up_. Demyx is so startled by his success that he squeaks and nearly falls down again, but hell no, Xigbar is not going through that again, and catches the kid around the waist.

"Um... thanks," Demyx says awkwardly as Xigbar steadies him, swaying slightly when the older man lets him go. He manages to stay on his feet, though, which is a relief.

"Where're the calluses from, kid?" Xigbar asks, nodding at his hands. "If you couldn't do something as simple as walking, where'd you get the energy to do something strenuous enough to mark up your hands?"

"I play sitar," Demyx explains, a smile lighting his face at the memory. "The calluses are from that, though sometimes I still—well, my Other would—make them bleed from playing a bit too long. The calluses peel sometimes, and that's annoying, because then they catch on the strings when you're trying to play." He wiggles his fingers for a moment, then inspects them. "At least they're not peeling now."

"You can't remember what standing is, but you remember all of that?" Xigbar asks, impressed.

"I play my sitar _all the time_," Demyx reminds him, frowning at the older man. "I didn't stand."

"Yeah, yeah." Xigbar waves his hand.

"I wish it was here," Demyx says, his voice sounding surprisingly mournful for one without a heart. He holds out a hand, twitching his fingers, as if he can feel it in his hand. "I wish—oh!" There's a flash, some weird light-glitter, and suddenly there's a blue instrument (a sitar, Xigbar assumes – he's not all that musically inclined) in Demyx's hand.

Unfortunately, the instrument is big, and Demyx hasn't yet figured out how to balance properly. Xigbar catches him by the arm, forcefully holding him up even as Demyx clutches the sitar.

The kid leans on it for balance, and Xigbar backs off.

"What...?" Demyx's face is almost like a child's, full of a wonder Xigbar _knows_ Demyx can't feel, but it makes Xigbar's empty chest cavity warm a bit anyway.

"That'll be your weapon here, kid." He almost draws his guns as an example, but thinks better of it, considering how Demyx is still trying to acclimate himself to the fact that a _non_-lethal item just appeared.

Demyx blinks, then just _looks_ at him. "It's not a weapon," he says plainly. "It's an _instrument_."

"Right. Anyway, about the pants—" Xigbar begins, but Demyx starts to play.

While his immediate reaction is to tell the kid not to sing or even make _noise_ (Axel sings in the shower sometimes, and _dear god_ the pain doesn't end), but... Demyx is actually _good_.

He thinks he catches the words: '_that's why it's hotter, under the water..._' but that makes no sense, so he's probably heard wrong.

Xigbar doesn't know where the music is from, but it makes him think of... bubbles. Huh. Of course, that might have been prompted by the way the moisture in the air around them is currently becoming actual water, swirling around the kid as he plays.

"Oh!" Demyx gasps, jerking in shock. As soon as he stops playing, the water falls to the floor, splashing into puddles at their feet. Demyx stares, and almost falls over as Xigbar unthinkingly claps him on the shoulder. Only by leaning on his sitar does he remain on his feet.

"Heh, good job, kid." Xigbar nods in approval, eyeing the water. "Figured you'd be useless, but hey, maybe not." He ignores the scowl (more like a pout, in Demyx's case) sent his way. The older man kicks the water with his boot. "Try it again."

Obediently, Demyx strums out a few more notes of the song on his sitar, but nothing happens.

"Come on, water," Demyx says, staring at the floor. "Come on, _dance_." He strums once, hard, and all of a sudden the water is _alive_, swirling heavily around him like a wall. Once again, it crashes to the floor as soon as Demyx stops playing (Xigbar warps to the hallway to avoid the splash, then back again) but the kid's got the hang of it now. He strums one string, softly, and the water swishes around at his feet.

Xigbar surveys the scene. Demyx proudly looking over his new weapon, the evidence of his elemental power spattered on the floor, and the kid now has the ability to stand. Excellent. They now officially have a new number in their slowly growing Organization.

"Okay," Xigbar says finally. "Now let's try for pants."

* * *

tbc.

* * *

As far as I'm concerned, Demyx was definitely from Atlantica. You _know_ it. The water, the music, the tendency to flee from problems... (I'M LOOKING AT _YOU_, KHI TRITON. "Get out of my world! There's no Heartless problem! LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!") 


	2. Not Your Sister's Dream Boy

**BIG DAMN AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay. This started out as a simple one-shot where Xigbar tries to teach Demyx how to stand, use his sitar as a weapon, and wear pants. I tried to leave it there, but more ideas stemming from that kept running around in my brain. I wrote them all down and ignored it, but they wouldn't be quiet. So.

This fic will be collection of related one-shots of varying length, spanning from Demyx's induction into the Organization until just after the end of KHII. Be warned: while there is (hopefully) going to be humour, angst follows, given that I'm following the KHII timeline. That means people end up dead, folks. Just 'cause we don't like it doesn't make it any less true. Also, implied Xigbar/Demyx and Axel/Roxas. Could be taken as very, very close friendship. Very close. Okay, maybe not. Xigbar and Axel also form some sort of weird-ass friendship, which mostly consists of:

"Weren't you branded a traitor last week?"  
"Yeah."  
"Huh."

I've loosely planned out what I want to do for each part, so there should be between twenty-five and thirty chapters when this is finished.

I've babbled long enough, so... enjoy!

* * *

**Not Your Sister's Dream Boy**  
_Axel takes on the task of inducting Roxas. Violence ensues._

* * *

Roxas doesn't like this place very much, but he supposes that beggars can't be choosers. It still feels strange to refer to himself as 'Roxas', but it's the only thing he has to go by. Well, that or XIII, but Roxas isn't very keen on calling himself by a number. 

When he'd first woken up, it had been in a town shrouded in twilight, lying on his back in an alleyway. Small black creatures with glowing eyes had surrounded him, pawing gently at his chest, not even hard enough to rumple his shirt.

They'd made little noises that sounded almost... disappointed.

He'd sat up, blinking, and asked himself where he was – only to met with the horrible realization that he didn't _know_ himself.

Or this place. Or even his own name.

The little... things... surrounding him had begun climbing all over him, and he'd yelped aloud, fearing them instinctively even as a strangely... weightless, empty feeling in his chest told him that he had no reason to.

Then they'd all frozen, their antennae twitching, before scattering away quickly, sliding into the ground and wriggling through the alley walls.

And a man in a black cloak had stepped through an undulating wall of darkness, standing over him with appraising eyes.

"Roxas," the man—Xemnas—had told him. "Your name is Roxas."

It had sounded _almost_ right. His name, but... not. It hadn't clicked inside of him the way he was sure it was supposed to, but with no memory and no clue, he accepted it. Why not?

Although now he's standing in a room that isn't at _all_ familiar; fairly large, with white-grey walls and an impractically high ceiling. The same strange design on every wall. Big canopy bed, black sheets, black drapes – and aren't those things supposed to be sheer?

Typical. No real memories, but he remembers crap like that.

All in all, horribly gaudy. But he doesn't have anywhere else to go. And this room—his own now, he'd been told—is far more comfortable than an alleyway. Xemnas left him here, telling him that IX would be along soon to instruct him in his element and his weapon.

What that means, he doesn't know. But the idea of a weapon is promising, so instead of ignoring his instructions and exploring, he opts to sit on the bed and wait.

———

This is supposed to be Demyx's job, Axel thinks sourly. Apparently their new—and last—member is close to Demyx's (apparent) age, so Xemnas had ordered (with much subtle threatening about the consequences of what would happen if he screwed up) Demyx to be the one to instruct Number XIII.

The young Nobody had begged off, however, promising to do Axel's domestic chores for the rest of the month if only Axel would do this for him.

Axel had agreed, partly out of curiosity, because none of the other members had been extended even _half_ this much courtesy, and partly because he hated laundry duty. Marluxia was always bitching to him about mixing the darks with the lights (and for fuck's sake, they all wore _black_, what the hell did he need pink and purple shirts for?), and Luxord had nearly had a heart attack when Axel had washed his coat with his favourite deck of cards still in the pocket.

Half an hour of instructing Xemnas' new fascination versus a month of hated chores? No contest. Still, that doesn't make him any happier about taking responsibility for the youngest and newest member of their Organization.

He takes a deep breath, then blows it out irritably. Half an hour, he reminds himself. Just thirty minutes, and you never have to look at the kid again.

Rather than simply push open the door to XIII's room, he creates a portal of darkness in the middle of the wall and steps through it to the other side.

He's impressed despite himself when XIII – an adolescent male – doesn't jump or look scared. Instead, the blond Nobody slides off the bed and backs a few feet away, studying Axel warily, but without any fear.

"...IX?" he asks after a moment, and Axel shakes his head.

"Nope." He flashes the kid a sharp smile, baring teeth. "VIII. The name's Axel. A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?"

"Memorized? It's _four letters_. What, is everyone here retarded?"

Either very brave, or very stupid. Possibly both, as the two tend to go hand-in-hand as far as Axel's seen.

"Honestly? Pretty much." The faint glimmer of a smile almost touches the kid's mouth, before he continues, "Must be why Xemnas picked _you_ up; no sense in breaking tradition." It could be taken for a joke, if it wasn't for the malice Axel purposefully put in his tone.

"Nice," XIII says, his eyes narrowing. "I almost liked you for a second there."

"No, you didn't," Axel reminds him calmly, flexing his fingers. "We don't feel _anything_. Good try, though."

XIII scowls at him.

"What the hell are you talking about? Everybody feels something." He crosses his arms over his chest. "For instance, right now, I'm feeling like throwing something at your face."

"Oh, for—Xemnas didn't explain this shit to you?" Axel hisses, ignoring the pathetic threat. "Great. All right, here's the rundown: did you see any little black shadow things before you got here?"

"I... yes," the kid says warily, as if he's expecting one to pop up out of the floor.

"Those used to be people, until _other_ black shadow things ripped their hearts out. They're called Heartless. Now, us? We're the leftovers of those people. Nobodies. Normally we'd be mindless and wouldn't look human, but if our Other had a strong heart, then we get to think and plan and look human. Except, you know, without feelings." Axel taps his chest. "No heart, after all."

The kid's expression is almost worth having to explain it all. He's gone pale, staring at him with wide blue—very, very blue—eyes.

"You're lying," he says finally, flatly, but there's a faint tremble in his voice. Shit, is he going to be another Demyx? IX had locked himself in his room for almost a _week_ after Xigbar explained his lack of a heart. The depressing songs coming from his room hadn't helped much, either.

"Uh-huh. Look, you can ask anyone else in this castle if you want. They'll all tell you the same thing. Demyx might be a little touchy on the subject, though, so I'd suggest _against_ asking him."

XIII glares at him – it's a look Axel is quickly becoming familiar with. "Trust me, I have no problem believe _you're_ a heartless bastard. But just because none of _you_ have hearts doesn't mean _I_ don't." He presses a clenched fist to his chest as if to protect his empty chest cavity. "I _have_ a heart."

"I _do_ believe in fairies," Axel says dryly, clapping his hands together three times to punctuate his last words. "I do, I do, I do."

"Get out." XIII points at the door, his hand steady. "I'll figure this shit out myself."

"When? In the middle of a fight?" Axel makes his voice patronizing and concerned. "It's a big, bad, scary world out there."

"Sure. If I don't, at least if I get killed, I'll be free of you," the kid snaps.

"Now, that's not very nice. We're all supposed to be a big, happy family." Axel spreads his arms in askance before the kid can answer, and makes his voice sincere. "Okay, I'll admit, I've been an asshole. I think we've just gotten off on the wrong foot; after all, once we figure out your weapon, I'll be leaving you alone. Let's try again. I'm Number VIII, Axel. And you are...?"

XIII stares at him, obviously trying to figure out what the trick is. Axel drops his arms to his sides, but doesn't drop his questioning expression.

"Roxas," XIII mutters finally, his eyes sliding to the floor.

"Hey, that's not a bad name," Axel says consolingly. "Now, Roxas, here's your first weapons lesson: _never_ take your eyes off your opponent!"

Roxas' head jerks up, his eyes widening comically as Axel's chakrams appear in a blaze of darkness and flame, and he leaps at the younger Nobody. Roxas makes a noise, but far from being fearful, it's a snarl of pure fury. Despite his lack of a weapon, he lashes out at Axel as he tries to scramble out of the way.

And all of a sudden, light flashes brightly enough to blind them both at such a close proximity, and there's a weapon in Roxas' hand. Although Axel had been expecting that, he still almost loses his head before he manages to duck just in time.

Quickly moving back a few feet, Axel takes a good look at Roxas' weapons; there are two of them, looking quite a bit like massive, stylized keys – one white, and one black.

Roxas himself looks stunned for a moment, but then his mouth twists into a snarl as he falls back into a defensive stance, holding his new weapons and looking as though he's ready and willing to bludgeon Axel to death with a pair of oversized house keys.

Axel laughs. "Very good!" he encourages, smirking. "Now you won't ever have to worry about locking yourself out. Now, about actual _weapons_..."

Axel jumps back as Roxas darts forward, lashing out with the black key—key_blade_, Xemnas had said (well, said to Demyx, who'd passed it on) it was called. Well, hell if the thing doesn't look sharp and pointy.

The kid is fast, Axel will give him that much. A few more swipes, and though Axel keeps an easy smirk on his face, it's actually much harder to dodge the Keyblades than it should be. Roxas is way more familiar with his new weapons than should be normal.

"See, the black one is passable. Goes with the dress code, stylish demons wings—"

"God, shut _up_!"

"—and a nice, heavy end for bludgeoning the door down when it won't fit in the lock. Now, the white one... that's not very scary. And what the hell is that on the end, a pointy flower? How are we going to kill people with flowers?"

"It's not a damned flower!"

"Hay fever is annoying, sure, but as for _deadly_—"

"_Oathkeeper_!" Roxas yells, his voice rising in pitch in order to drown out Axel's own. He's panting from both exertion and the outburst, his face red with (an impressive imitation of) fury. "Its name is _Oathkeeper_!"

"See, now, I would have named it Priscilla. The other one's a bit nastier looking, though, so we'll call it—"

"Oblivion," Roxas snarls, cutting him off. He's looking a little calmer now. Axel blinks, then concedes,

"It fits."

Roxas appears to be taken off-guard by that. Finally, he says quietly, "Oathkeeper and Oblivion. Their names. _Not_—" his mouth twists angrily "—Priscilla, or any other stupid name you come up with." He points Prisc—excuse him, _Oathkeeper_—at Axel threateningly, and if it wasn't a big, flowery house key with a star charm on the hilt, Axel just might have taken him seriously. As it is, he can't help continuing to poke fun at Roxas. This display of pseudo-emotion is even better than the façades Axel manages to keep up on a daily basis.

"Did you just come up with those names now?"

"No," Roxas snaps, his eyes narrowing, but there's a sudden uncertainty there. "I just... know."

"How?" Axel asks, both to taunt him further and because, yes, he's genuinely curious.

"I just know, okay?" To Axel's surprise, Roxas' breathing accelerates, his eyes clouding. "I don't know _how_, I don't know _why_, I don't know—nnn!" Suddenly, Roxas is full-out hyperventilating, the Keyblades dropped to the ground as he clutches at his head and drops to his knees.

Ah, fuck. Is he having a seizure? Great. Now Axel'll be blamed if the kid dies—stops existing, whatever—and Xemnas will probably let Vexen torture him to death in the name of _science_.

"Hey, calm down," Axel says irritably, nudging Roxas with the toe of his boot, but Roxas simply whimpers in return, his fingers clutching harder and _tugging_, nearly tearing out his hair at the roots.

Startled, Axel grabs Roxas' hands, yanking them away from his blond hair before wrapping his own fingers around Roxas' upper arms, holding him steady. It's a flashback, he realizes. They've all had flashbacks, but none _this_ violent – he can't even call the kid a wimp in his head, because so far he's shown himself to be a tough little thing. It'll be a shame if he gives himself an aneurysm, really, even if Xemnas _won't_ murder Axel for it.

"Woah, woah, breathe. _Breathe_."

—

"Woah, woah, breathe. _Breathe_."

"I know!" Roxas snaps, but it's gasped out. The pain in his head is finally ebbing. As his breathing returns to normal, he realizes that those are _Axel's_ hands steadying him. With a growl, he wrenches free and snatches up Oathkeeper, swiping blindly at the other man. Axel just barely manages to dodge backward, but he still falls on his ass. Roxas smirks.

"Hey, now," Axel says, sounding annoyed instead of superior for the first time. He stands, brushing imaginary dirt off his cloak. "Is that any way to treat the guy who just showed you some compassion?"

"You _can't_ show compassion," Roxas spits out, scrambling to his feet. "You're just an emotionless shell, _remember_?"

"Oh, you wound me." Axel lays a hand over his chest, his expression one of utmost betrayal and hurt. "Have a heart, kiddo."

Roxas' face flushes at the not-so-subtle dig. Christ, what is _wrong_ with this guy? Without knowing how he knows what to do, and wary enough now to not think about it for too long, he throws Oblivion at Axel, sending the blade spinning through the air at an incredible speed. To Axel's credit, he sidesteps it easily, but that doesn't matter. Roxas _knows_. Somehow.

Strike Raid.

"You know, throwing _away_ your weapon in a fight isn't the best—"

There's a faint whistling from behind Axel—the sound of something moving very, very quickly, and at the last possible second the older Nobody realizes what it is and jerks to the side, body turning to allow the Keyblade to pass _by_ him rather than _through_ him. Still, the man flinches slightly as the blade slices through the air directly beside his face.

Roxas catches Oblivion perfectly by the hilt, swinging the Keyblade behind him to ease the halting of the weapon's momentum. He brings it up again quickly when he sees a small trickle of blood run down Axel's cheek—no wonder he flinched.

There's dead silence, and despite the tension of the situation, Roxas can't help but note that he's finally managed to get Axel to shut up.

With a calm that's more than a little worrying, Axel's chakrams vanish and he pulls off a glove—the hand underneath is surprisingly slender, with long fingers. Axel touches his fingers to the small slice, and when he looks at his hand again, the smear of blood is bright red.

"Not bad," Axel says casually, pulling the glove back on and meeting Roxas' challenging gaze unflinchingly, but there's something very dark lurking in his expression. His chakrams appear again in a muted blaze of fire and darkness.

Axel's grip on his chakrams tightens, and Roxas takes a step back to ensure his footing, bracing himself and defiantly meeting Axel's eyes. Roxas isn't stupid—he's very aware that Axel has had far more time to get used to his element and weapons than Roxas has—but he's not going to back down, especially not from _this_ asshole. Even if that means taking the full brunt of Axel's attack head-on.

But it never comes. Roxas doesn't let himself relax, waiting for the trick to be revealed, but the other Nobody's expression turns from dark to thoughtful as he tilts his head, as if considering something.

Abruptly, Axel smiles mockingly and bows low—far too low to be anything other than a taunt. He straightens, that smirk still in place, and Roxas curses himself for not throwing his Keyblades at the man while Axel wasn't looking.

"Welcome to Organization XIII, Roxas."

———

Axel heads back to his room after portalling away from a confused and angered Roxas. He'd been hoping to make it there without running into anyone, but no such luck. Not that he cares, but even if he had a heart and was injected full of sunshine and happiness, he still wouldn't be overly fond of dealing with Larxene.

"Aw, Axel." She places a falsely comforting hand on his shoulder, gripping his chin in her other hand and turning his face toward her before he manages to pull away. "Did the new baby with his brand-new toys manage to give you a nasty scrape?"

He smirks at her, making her mockingly concerned expression flicker briefly into one of confusion. A smile is generally not most people's reactions to her taunts. He runs a gloved thumb over the cut, ignoring the sting and rubbing away the crusted blood.

"Cute little scratch, isn't it?" Axel grins sharply, showing teeth. "I like him already."

* * *

tbc.

* * *

I'm going with the idea that Axel really has no reason to treat Roxas any differently than any of the other members. Yet. Not to mention that Roxas _looks_ cute and tiny and relatively harmless, and therefore should be fun to taunt. Oh, Axel. After he practices with the Keyblades for about five minutes, he's going to come and kick your ass. 

**Next Chapter:**

(The Absence of) Flower Power  
_Xigbar and Demyx decide to see if Marluxia uses hair dye. This is a Bad Idea._**  
**


End file.
